


Holiday From Hell

by JetBlackGoldfish



Category: Political RPF
Genre: Desperation, Embarrassment, F/M, Gen, Humiliation, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Urination, Wetting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:21:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21549802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JetBlackGoldfish/pseuds/JetBlackGoldfish
Summary: A totally fictionalised account of the holiday the Assads and the Erdogans had in Bodrum
Relationships: Bashar al-Assad/Asma al-Assad, Recep Tayyip Erdogan/Emine Erdogan
Kudos: 7





	1. Arrival

It was a beautiful, hot and sunny day, and a plane had just landed at Bodrum Airport. A man and a woman were standing on a red carpet. He was tall, with a round head and dark eyes, hidden by dark sunglasses. He had thinning hair and a bit of a moustache, and was wearing a dark grey suit with a blue shirt and yellow tie. His wife wore dark sunglasses too, as well as a black frilly shirt, a long white jacket, a long white skirt and a white hijab.

  
A few minutes later, the plane door opened, and another man and woman climbed down the stairs. He was taller than the other man, only by a couple of inches, but would seem even more so due to his long, thin frame. He had an almost elfin look to him, with his large, pointed ears, short black hair and big, blue, almond eyes. He also had a small moustache and was wearing a dark grey suit with a blue shirt and a light-coloured tie. 

  
He was followed by a beautiful woman - a thin woman, with short, brown, wavy hair, wearing a black dress and also wearing sunglasses.

  
This couple walked down the red carpet, towards the other couple. They shook each other's hands and then the woman in the white hijab asked 'How was your journey?' 

  
'Not too bad,' the other woman replied in a calm London accent. 

  
'Come on,' the round-headed man said. 'We'd better get to the hotel.'

  
While walking towards a fancy, black car, the round-headed man said something to the other man, which made him laugh. 

  
'Bashar, your laugh is really weird,' the round-headed man said abruptly. 

  
Bashar decided to ignore this remark, but still, it wasn't a very nice thing for Recep to say, and was, he thought, a bit of a crappy start to this week-long holiday.

  
***

  
The two couples arrived at a five-star hotel in Bodrum. After climbing the stairs at the entrance, they entered the elaborate building - the walls and ceiling were a dark, metallic rose gold colour, the walls having a detailed black pattern, that almost seemed engraved. The floor was made of a warm brown wood. Hanging from the exact centre of the ceiling was a huge, opulent gold and crystal chandelier. 

  
'Wow,' Bashar said quietly, his face full of an almost childlike wonder, 'that's the biggest chandelier I've ever seen.'

  
'Oh shut up Bashar,' Recep hissed. 'You act like a five-year-old.'

  
'Is he always like that, Asma?' the other woman asked.

  
'Yes, Emine, pretty much,' Asma replied with a smile. 

  
'Oh, you poor darling.' 

  
After checking in, Bashar and Recep let Asma and Emine go ahead of them. With Emine out of his sight, Recep started checking out every beautiful woman in sight, even flirting with a maid. 

  
Bashar had been feeling uncomfortable with Recep's behaviour, but didn't say anything until Recep asked the maid if she was busy this afternoon. 'Recep, stop it, you're married,' he whispered to him before going upstairs.


	2. The Contract

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bashar and Recep have some important issues to discuss

After leaving their suitcases in their hotel rooms, Emine and Asma had left the hotel to visit Bodrum town centre - yes, there was going to be hours of shopping and sitting in cafes, but there was going to be a lot of talking to everyday people and local business owners too. Meanwhile, Bashar had gone to visit Recep in his hotel room - a room with an ensuite bathroom and a huge king-size bed, all with a mint green theme, except for the carpet, which was a forest green. The Assads' room was similar, except their room had a powder blue colour scheme, with a navy blue carpet. Each suite had a television, a huge wardrobe and beautiful sea views. 

  
Both sitting on the edge of the mint green bed, Bashar and Recep discussed important issues such as trade and some geographical disputes - Bashar's father, Hafez al-Assad, had never trusted Turkey, and Bashar couldn't help but wonder what his father would've thought of him not only visiting Turkey, but also spending a week-long holiday with Turkey's first couple in a beautiful resort. Then again, Bashar knew that he had to do things his own way - that said, Bashar and Recep weren't exactly the best of friends, and their Christmas shopping trip in Damascus just a few years before had been dreadful. 

  
Just when the two leaders were beginning to disagree with each other, Recep handed Bashar a neatly folded piece of paper. 

  
'Open it. It's an important document,' Recep insisted. 'Today!' he added abruptly as Bashar slowly unfolded the paper. 

  
There were two paragraphs - one was quite long, while the other was only three or four sentences long. It was all in Turkish, with no Arabic translation. 

  
'What does it say, Recep?' 

  
'You still haven't learned Turkish?!' 

  
'Recep,' Bashar said calmly, 'as a head of state I no longer have the time to learn languages like I used to.' 

  
'How are you going to read this important document then?!' 

  
'You're just going to have to translate it for me - does that say 'Iskenderun?' 

  
'Yes, well done,' Recep said in an angry, sarcastic tone. He snatched the piece of paper out of Bashar's hands, almost tearing the paper, and read from it aloud, in Arabic, as if it was the most burdensome thing in the world. 

  
'Now if you could sign it, please...' 

  
'No, I will not,' Bashar said quietly. 

  
'Why not, you piece of bok?!' 

  
'Because it's not an official document,' Bashar said. 'There's nothing on it to say that it's an official document - why are there no government crests on it, for either Turkey or Syria? Why is there no Arabic translation if I, a Syrian, am supposed to sign it? Why are there no designated spaces for us to sign our names? And no, I'm not going to recognise Iskenderun as part of Turkey.' 

  
'This _is_ an official document!' Recep said angrily, turning red. 

  
'No, Recep, you typed this out on a word document and printed it, probably just last night. I will not consider signing anything unless it has all of the official crests, a translation into Arabic if it's needed and a place to sign my name.' 

  
Recep was furious, but he couldn't continue arguing with Bashar over his word document Iskenderun 'contract' - it was almost lunchtime and they had an itinerary to stick to. Recep still looked very red and angry, but he took several deep breaths and walked around the room a few times. He sat back down on the bed, feeling a little more calm, and said 'Come on, Bashar, we have places to go.'


	3. The Beautiful Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bashar and Recep go to watch a football (soccer) game

After a quick lunch of borek, Bashar and Recep were in Recep's car, driving along the road, Recep driving while Bashar was in the passenger seat. 

  
They couldn't help but feel uncomfortable about being confined to the car after their argument, but they also felt uncomfortable because it was so hot, even with the air conditoning on. 

  
'We'll be there soon,' Recep said after about half-an-hour. Bashar just nodded - he didn't know Bodrum at all, but he guessed they were on the other side of town. He put a hand in his inside jacket pocket, he'd taken another piece of borek, wrapped in napkins, in case he got hungry later. 

  
Around five minutes later, Recep parked the car outside a football ground. 'We're here' Recep said, unbuckling his seatbelt and leaving the car. Bashar followed suit. 

  
***

  
Soon, Bashar and Recep were sat at the front row of a small stadium. Normally when there was a game on, the seats weren't even filled to a quarter of this stadium's capacity, but today it was packed. There was even a crowd outside the football ground, just hoping to get a glimpse of the two presidents, but at the same time this was an important game as far as non-league teams were concerned. 

  
Bashar had eaten his borek already, as he didn't want the cheese mixture to go off in the Turkish summer heat. He and Recep had removed their jackets and rolled up their shirt sleeves, sipping lemonade from large cardboard cups. 

  
Bashar knew that Recep had once played football semi-professionally. He knew that Fenerbahce had expressed interest in taking Recep on as a player - but his father had blocked the transfer. Bashar sometimes felt that Recep was somewhat bitter about this, and maybe that's why he behaved the way he did sometimes... Bashar had planned to be an ophthalmologist, with his own clinic in Damascus, but the sudden death of his older brother, Bassel, had changed everything... he still felt a little sad about it sometimes, but he had accepted his position as an Arab president, even if he still felt shy and nervous about conferences and summits, and still felt insecure about his capabilities as president... 

  
Bashar wasn't really following either team, as both were minor Turkish teams, and he didn't really follow Turkish football... but after a goal was scored by the home team, both Bashar and Recep jumped up and spilled lemonade on the floor. Shortly afterwards, however, it was half-time, so Recep went and bought two more large lemonades. 

  
The second half of this football game was a lot more action-packed, with Recep repeatedly cheering in an impassioned yet almost aggressive manner. Finally, the home team won the game, and both Bashar and Recep jumped up, cheered, and hugged tightly, which they'd never ever done before. Several seconds later they let go, feeling very awkward, and sat down, greeting and talking to people as they left the stadium. 

  
After a quick tour of the football ground, Recep told Bashar 'We have to go back to the hotel now' and they walked outside, greeted the large crowd, then made their way towards Recep's car. 


	4. The Long Journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'At this point they had been stuck in traffic for another five minutes, and both leaders were visibly relieved when the traffic slowly started moving again. The windows were tinted, which they were both pleased about right now - they didn't want anyone to see them. 
> 
> However, things slowly got worse.'

The journey from the hotel to the football ground had taken just over half-an-hour. However, there was a lot more traffic on the roads than there usually would be at this time of day, due to the large amount of people who had come to watch the football game, or just to see Recep and Bashar. 

  
The two heads of state had been stuck in a traffic jam for ten minutes now, and already they were having a hard time. The air conditioning was on, but it was so hot that both men were drenched in sweat, sitting on their jackets, their blue shirts sticking to them and the leather seats, but at least they still had their cardboard lemonade cups. 

  
'Fucking move!' Recep shouted, growing impatient. Bashar didn't say anything, he was trying to think of getting back to the hotel and having a shower and a little nap before Asma got back. 

  
_I wonder how she's doing_ , Bashar thought. _Probably better than us..._

  
What Bashar didn't know was that right now, Asma and Emine were clothes shopping, and Emine was making unpleasant remarks about every piece of clothing that Asma picked out for herself. 

  
Soon, the traffic started moving again, and they drove along smoothly for five minutes, before the traffic slowed to a halt again. Bashar and Recep took several large sips of their lemonade, punctuated by Recep shouting random Turkish swear words in frustration, before moving along again. 

  
The journey then went quite smoothly, with stops only lasting for a minute or two. Bashar and Recep would sip their lemonade when the traffic stopped. 

  
They soon ran out of lemonade, and grew more sweaty and uncomfortably hot with nothing to drink or distract them. Bashar had suggested turning the radio on, but Recep had angrily replied with 'I don't want to listen to your crap.' 

'I never said it had to be anything I liked, Recep,' Bashar said quietly. He felt a little dizzy from the heat, and possibly from the lemonade that probably didn't even have half a real lemon in it. 

  
At this point they had been stuck in traffic for another five minutes, and both leaders were visibly relieved when the traffic slowly started moving again. The windows were tinted, which they were both pleased about right now - they didn't want anyone to see them. 

  
However, things slowly got worse. On top of being sweaty, slightly dizzy and being stuck in a hot car with a temperamental Recep Tayyip Erdogan, Bashar now had something else to worry about, and he hoped Recep wouldn't notice. 

  
'Recep?' 

  
'What now?' 

  
'Would you mind if I opened this window just a little, please?' 

  
'No you cannot open the fucking window! You'd better not be fucking travel sick, this is a good car!' 

  
Bashar sighed, then breathed in and out. Then in and out again. He wasn't travel sick - he hadn't been prone to it since he was a little boy - but he just wanted to get back to the hotel as soon as possible. After several minutes they reached a red light and another traffic jam at the same time. Bashar instinctively let out a distressed-sounding groan. That, and the slightly uncomfortable look on his face, made Recep look at him with a sneer. 

  
'What's wrong, Bashar?' Recep asked in a tone that was neither caring nor concerned. 

  
'I think you know what's wrong, Recep,' Bashar sighed. 

  
'Yes,' Recep replied, 'but we'll be back at the hotel soon.' He still didn't sound concerned. 

  
'Yeah,' Bashar said, 'it's not too bad, I'll be fine,' he added while regretting having those two large lemonades and wondering if the slight dizziness could have also been caused by the borek he'd kept in his pocket. A minute or two later, the traffic moved along again. 

  
Bashar tried to look comfortable and like everything was fine, but it was hard when it was around 30 degrees Celsius outside, was very warm in the car and had a slowly growing need to get to a bathroom. He'd told Recep that he'd be fine, but twenty minutes later they were in another traffic jam, and at that point Bashar was already grabbing himself with one hand, but he stopped after a while. 

  
The traffic was stagnant on a major road, and Recep was still shouting swear words at the car in front. He looked at Bashar and said 'I expected this sort of thing from my children when they were small, not from another president' as Bashar grabbed himself again and let out another groan. 

  
'I'm only human, Recep,' Bashar sighed. 

  
They sat in this hot car in stagnant traffic for around twenty-five minutes - twenty-five long, slow, humid, sweaty, tense and very uncomfortable minutes, before things finally started moving along again, albeit a little slowly. Recep looked at Bashar, who was now softly biting his lip and had his legs slightly crossed. 

  
'Are you going to be OK, Bashar?' Recep asked, now sounding only marginally concerned. 

  
'Erm... yes, I should be,' Bashar replied quietly, biting his lip a little harder and squeezing the sides of the luxury leather seat. After about five minutes, Bashar had pushed himself as far back into his seat as possible, and Recep continued driving. _He'd better not fucking piss himself all over this car..._

  
Around fifteen minutes later, Recep knew that they were about halfway there, and hopefully it shouldn't take too long to get to the hotel. 

  
'We should be there soon, Bashar,' Recep said, noticing how very uncomfortable Bashar looked, still biting his lip and now squirming quite frequently. 

  
'I hope so,' Bashar said, now grabbing himself with both hands. Saying it to himself rather than to Recep, he sighed 'I really need to pee, I've never felt it like this.' _Why did I say that? Why did I say that in front of Recep?_

  
At first, Recep wasn't going to say anything, but in the past half-hour or so, those two large lemonades had caught up with him as well. 'I think I have to go as well, Bashar.' 

  
'At least we don't have to suffer in silence,' Bashar said to Recep. _Maybe this will strengthen our friendship and then Recep won't act like such a khara_ , Bashar thought, feeling even more sweaty, dizzy and uncomfortable now, _and I hope we can just get back to the hotel before it's too late_. There was a very awkward moment where they both stared directly at each other while they both squirmed uncomfortably in their seats at the exact same time. 

  
Five minutes away from the hotel, Bashar and Recep hit an unfortunate setback: yet another traffic jam. 'Kahretsin!' Recep shouted, now pushing himself as far back as he could in his seat. Bashar had done the same too, now with his legs crossed tightly. _I am going to get to the hotel and everything's going to be fine, I will not pee myself, I will certainly not pee myself in front of Recep..._

  
'How are you doing?' Recep asked Bashar. 

  
'I think I'm going to cry because it's so bad,' Bashar sighed, grabbing himself in between his crossed legs, taking several deep breaths - he knew he had to try and stay calm, but it was getting increasingly difficult. 'How are you doing right now?' 

  
'Better than you, at least,' Recep replied, feeling the discomfort getting stronger, 'but I'd like to just get back to that hotel. When we get there, we'll go up to my room, and you can use my bathroom first, ahead of me. I can wait longer.' 

  
'Shukran, Recep, that's very kind of you,' Bashar sighed as the traffic began to move again. 


	5. Back At The Hotel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a very uncomfortable journey, Bashar and Recep return to the hotel

Finally, after an agonising fifteen-minute drive, Recep and Bashar had returned to the hotel. They knew Emine and Asma would still be shopping or having coffee together, which made them feel a little better about their predicament. 

  
Recep parked the car and walked out onto the brown gravel. Bashar got out too, and with very few people around, confessed to Recep that he could barely walk. 

  
'You're walking fine to me, Bashar,' Recep said, pressing the button on his car keys that locked the doors. 'Come on, we can do this, just try and walk normally.' 

  
They hastily climbed up the stone steps, through the glass doors and into the shiny, rose gold foyer. They nodded at the receptionist on the desk, and, seeing that the lift was occupied ('Khara!' they whispered to one another), went up the huge, marble steps, trying to look like they weren't suffering any sort of discomfort whatsoever, which was a lot harder for Bashar at the moment, but he was managing. 

  
Up the first flight of stairs, then up the second... when they reached the third flight of stairs, no-one was around, so Bashar and Recep stopped for a little moment on the landing, just for them both to grab themselves for several seconds - the urge had grown quite quickly with Recep too, and they both tried not to look at each other holding it in and squirming on the marble landing. 'Let's keep going!' Recep sighed, and they both went up the fourth flight of stairs. 

  
_I can do this!_ Bashar thought as he struggled up the stairs. After one more flight of stairs and a short walk down a corridor, they had reached Recep's room. 

  
Again, no-one was around, and Recep searched his pockets for the door key while standing cross-legged. 'You'll find it, Recep, it's got to be somewhere in one of those pockets!' Bashar said quietly but frantically, also standing cross-legged and now shaking a little. 

  
'I found it!' Recep said joyously, unlocking the door. Bashar and Recep ran straight inside, both closing the door together... then Recep ran into the mint green ensuite bathroom, locking the door and leaving a very uncomfortable and desperate Bashar standing in the middle of the mint green hotel room. 

  
Bashar couldn't help but think 'Piece of khara' about Recep now. _The piece of khara knows I'm at fucking bursting point_ , he thought, now thinking of leaving the room and walking to his hotel room. Immediately after thinking that, Bashar crouched down a little, almost falling to his knees, grabbing himself with both hands, just trying to hold it all in, realising that he probably wouldn't be able to make it to his hotel room bathroom in time even though his room was just next door. _Recep won't be long now, it's best for me to wait here..._

  
Seconds later, Bashar kicked his shoes off and loosened his belt while shaking and squirming desperately - he could barely move, yet could not keep still, and was now expecting the worst unless Recep came out of the bathroom in the next few seconds. _Come on out of there, Recep, please!_ Bashar thought, pressing both of his hands into his crotch and crossing his legs very tightly... 

  
_Fuck..._

  
_No..._

  
Bashar could feel a slight wetness, and let go of his crotch. A few short seconds later, he uncrossed his legs. He looked down at himself and saw that the groin area of his dark grey trousers was quickly turning an even darker grey, he could feel it running down one leg, then the other... Bashar tried to stop it, simply with willpower, but he just couldn't no matter how hard he tried... he couldn't believe this was happening to him... he was pissing himself, in Recep Tayyip Erdogan's hotel room. 

  
Recep came out of the bathroom, looking very relieved... until he saw Bashar, standing stock-still near the mint green bed... 

  
'Oh! Bashar!' Recep said in shock, not knowing what to do other than stand there, staring at Bashar as he continued pissing himself uncontrollably, and as a patch of the forest green carpet began to turn an even darker green... 

  
It had all started very quickly and it ended very quickly too. Recep approached Bashar by a couple of steps, and looked at him. Bashar looked mortified, and looked as if he wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words. 

  
'Bashar?' Recep said. 

  
A minute later, Bashar's face went from a bright red to looking more pale. He was trembling and fidgeting as he said 'I'm so sorry, Recep... I couldn't... it just... it just happened and... I couldn't hold on...' 

  
Bashar was expecting Recep to start shouting at him, and was very surprised when Recep grabbed his forearms and squeezed them, a little too hard. 

'OK, Bashar, just calm down. Can you do that?' 

  
'Yeah,' Bashar said faintly, hoping he wasn't going to start crying, and just wanting to leave the room now or have the ground swallow him up whole... just for a while, at least. 

  
'Maybe you should go back to your room and... sort yourself out,' Recep suggested, letting go of Bashar's arms. Bashar picked up his dark grey suit jacket and put that on, then tried his very best to slip his shoes back on while standing up, feeling increasingly ashamed with every movement, before tightening his belt again, blushing furiously. 

  
When Bashar had his shoes on, Recep grabbed onto Bashar's forearm again. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but he let go almost immediately. Just when Bashar was thinking about turning around and seeing if he could go to his hotel room without anyone seeing him, Recep suddenly slapped him right across the face, leaving a big red mark on his cheek. 

  
'What was that for?' Bashar asked softly, rubbing the red mark, but he already knew. 

  
'For pissing yourself, seni aptal gerizekalı! You've ruined this probably expensive carpet! I'm probably going to have to call someone up to clean up this fucking piss stain, what am I going to tell them?!' 

  
Bashar didn't say anything, he was still hoping that maybe the ground would swallow him up and he could stay there for a few hours until he felt like he could face the world again. Recep's ranting and shouting certainly wasn't helping. Nor did it help when Recep pushed him towards the door and said 'I'll see you at dinner, I'm sure your wife will be amused when I tell her what happened' followed by 'NOW GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!' 

  
Bashar left the room and Recep slammed the door behind him. The good thing was that there was still no-one around, so Bashar quickly made his way towards his hotel room door just a few steps away, managing to unlock the door and dart inside just as an old woman was starting to walk down the corridor. _I hope she didn't see me..._


End file.
